


on this fresh morning in the broken world

by citizen101erased



Category: Star Trek: Picard
Genre: Canon Divergent, Gen, Trauma, do NOT read if you're not up to speed on picard, guinan meets the sirena crew, holosquad, introspective, no I mean it there are spoilers here, spoilers for picard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:35:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23110315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/citizen101erased/pseuds/citizen101erased
Summary: Guinan has heard a lot of rumours about Picard’s latest adventures and the crew of La Sirena. She never quite believed them, knowing fully well how rumours tend to be exaggerated. Then Picard shows up to ask her to join the ship for a while, and Guinan realizes she’s never done learning after all.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 35





	on this fresh morning in the broken world

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is written while Picard s1 is still airing. To be more precise: after episode 7, Nepenthe. So this will probably be totally canon divergent pretty much immediately after posting lmao. 
> 
> I’ve assumed Agnes probably won’t stay on the ship so she’s not in this. Also because I don’t know how I feel about her so it’s easier to just not write her lmao. Seven’s also not here..because...she’s just not here? Let's all pretend she's off on important business somewhere else. 
> 
> Thank you so, so much @outphan for being my cheerleader and beta <3
> 
> Title from ['Invitation' by Mary Oliver](https://wordsfortheyear.com/2017/08/28/invitation-by-mary-oliver/).

Guinan had heard rumours. Of course she did, it’s what she _does_. She listens, and people tell her things. Lately they’d been saying Picard had not only left Starfleet, but had gathered some kind of ragtag little crew of his own that was more drama than necessary and barely even functional but they did kind of save the universe, so they have that going for them, at least. Guinan figures there’s a lot there, and most of it she should probably take with a pinch of salt, like she should with all rumours. 

After all, an ex-borg from the Delta quadrant who is now some sort of rebel fighter, a drug addict, a former Starfleet commander, a boy raised by Romulan warrior nuns, and Data’s daughter? Even for Picard’s standards, heck, even for _Starfleet’s_ standards, that’s a bit much. 

Still, the rumours have managed to reach her little corner of the universe so that means something’s definitely going on. She just refuses to actually believe it all like she always does. 

At least, she does until Picard himself shows up one day, and asks Guinan for her help. There are still a lot of issues to smoothe over in the whole Romulans vs AI war that has apparently been going on, but more importantly: the Sirena and its crew may have found themselves at the centre of the war, but the crewmembers barely even manage to stay in one room together without getting buried under the sheer amount of baggage they all carry with them. Picard thinks a neutral listening ear might help. 

Guinan agrees to come - the planet she’s been living on has started getting boring anyway (since the latest alcohol ban less people have been showing up at the bar, and besides, she’s done the whole bartender thing before and she’s ready for something new.) 

And this ship sounds downright _fascinating_. She might be old, she might have seen a lot of the universe, but humans never cease to surprise her. Most other species are fairly predictable: Vulcans use logic as an excuse for everything, which means you can fairly easily reason them both into and out of anything. The Klingons are almost always out for a fight. The Ferengi would sell their mother if it meant getting more latinum. Romulans are, well… Romulans. Usually angry, paranoid, and conniving, but considering recent circumstances, maybe rightfully so. She’s never met one raised in such unique circumstances before though, so who knows what that’s going to be like. 

But humans, especially the ones outside of Starfleet who aren’t guided by those strict principles, are much more unpredictable and, dare she say it, fun. 

She agrees to join La Sirena, admittedly largely to satiate her own curiosity about this ship and its crew. And of course it’ll be nice to catch up with Picard, again. She missed her dear friend all this time. 

Closing the bar doesn’t take long, nor does packing her belongings. Picard barely has time to finish his drink before she’s back with her suitcase following her, beeping softly before rolling to a stop next to a barstool.

“Ready already?” Picard says, smiling at her. She realizes with a twist in her gut that she’d missed that: someone smiling at her with genuine friendship. Maybe this endeavour is better for her than she expected, too. 

“You know me, Picard,” she says. “I’m always ready to go on an adventure with you.”

He stands up slowly, no longer the fit and energetic man she once knew. It hurts her a little every time she hears his voice, every time she sees how much slower he now moves. Mind’s still sharp as a tack though. Besides, she’s been aging quite a bit herself lately, so there’s a good chance Picard feels the same seeing her. 

They stand next to each other, and Picard presses the small, siren-shaped combadge on his chest. “Rios, two to beam up.”

She doesn’t hear if there’s a reply before the world disappears into blue lights. 

Once they’ve arrived, Guinan takes a moment to look around. The ship itself turns out to be small, cold and uninviting. Picard had shown her holographs of the outside, which looks like it got dug up from a scrapheap somewhere in a remote corner of the galaxy. Although the inside is impeccably kept, it’s still all metal and darkness and looming open spaces. There’s nothing of the well-lit corridors and comforting sounds of people chatting on larger Starfleet vessels. Instead, it looks like a place humans should not live in for longer periods of time. 

She makes a mental note to herself to replicate some lamps and plants, even if just for her own room. Make it a little more cozy and inviting. 

“Picard, I think this ship could use a little more hospitality,” she says, her voice echoing through the large space.

“Don’t say that!” someone immediately shouts back from the front of the ship. 

“Welcome to La Sirena!” the same voice says suddenly from right in front of her, as a man in an old-fashioned sweater and a paper folder in his arm appears. “Please, allow me to show you around the ship and make sure you’re comfortable.” 

“Guinan, meet La Sirena’s Emergency Hospitality Hologram,” Picard says in that now slower, deeper timbre of his.

“An Emergency Hospitality Hologram, huh? And what exactly do you do on a ship like this?” She really does try to keep her voice neutral, but judging by Picard’s smile he heard all the amusement and bewilderment coming through. 

“Mister Sensitive here is an annoyance, that’s what,” the man from the front of the ship says as he comes over to them. He looks exactly like the hologram, except maybe a little bit scruffier and a whole lot crankier. His voice is also a bit more harsh, compared to the hologram’s soft spokenness. 

There’s so much to unpack here, and Guinan could not be more delighted at the prospect. 

The man in question waves the hologram away, who huffs before disappearing. 

“Sorry about him. I’m Cristobal Rios, the captain of La Sirena. Welcome on board!” He sticks his cigar back in his mouth before extending his hand, and Guinan shakes it softly. 

“I’m Guinan, though undoubtedly Picard has already told you a little about me,” she replies. 

“He has,” Rios replies around his cigar. “But knowing some of the people on this ship, they’re going to be asking you a lot of questions anyway. Don’t mind them.” 

“Oh, I don’t mind.” She really doesn’t.

“Guinan, Rios,” Picard cuts in. “Please allow me to give you a tour of the ship, Guinan. I take it she’s in Agnes’ old room?” He directs the last question at Rios, who grimaces at the name before nodding. She can already tell the rumours about this crew are actually true, and she’s only met one of them so far. 

Picard puts a hand on her arm and guides her toward the front of the ship, following Rios’ footsteps and cloud of cigar smoke. She does really hope the private rooms on this ship have good ventilation so she doesn’t have to smell that all the time. Spending time on earth in the 19th century has really made her appreciate fresh air.

She quickly tells her suitcase to stay put. It beeps quickly in response, as if affronted to be left behind, before rattling once and then sitting quietly in front of the transporter pad. 

By the time they’ve reached the tiny bridge section of La Sirena, Rios has sat down again with his feet propped up casually. Another version of him is in one of the seats, working his way through the holographic controls as he exchanges a lot of rapidfire Spanish with Rios. Another hologram, apparently. 

The hologram turns around and grumbles an _¡ola!_ at them before turning back to the window again. This one’s even scruffier than Rios himself, and she’s starting to wonder if Rios has a whole crew based on versions of himself. 

And he’s supposed to be one of the most functional people on this ship? The rumours were all wrong. This crew is much worse off than she’d expected. 

“This is the bridge,” Picard says, pulling her from her thoughts. “You can find Rios here most of the time, if you need him. Raffi’s here a lot, too. And This is Emmet, our Emergency Tactical Hologram.” He stops there, explaining approximately nothing before steering her to the stairs leading down to the open section in the middle of the ship. 

“Here we have our cafeteria. Or dining room, however you wish to call it. You can use the replicators as freely as you like. We don’t really have set times to eat together, but if you would prefer that, let me know and I will happily dine with you.” 

It’s a dark and depressing place, more like a prison than a communal area, and she’s already mentally planning ways to make it more, well. Habitable. The only table available is a metal picnic table, and there’s a small line of replicators to the side, next to - for some reason - a cupboard with shelves full of actual cups. That makes no sense, when replicators also replicate the cups. Honestly, these people would already feel so much better if there were just some more darn lamps in here. She’s tempted to put a bar in, maybe an old-fashioned jukebox. In any other ship that might’ve worked miracles. In this one, it might end up with someone dead. Maybe she’ll just add a nice picture somewhere then. Van Gogh’s sunflowers always cheers everyone up. 

Picard is already moving on further, so she quickly follows. They walk towards a brightly lit area - finally! -, full of white spaces and intimidating looking equipment. 

“This is the sickbay,” Picard says, stopping just outside the space. “There is a Medical Emergency Hologram, but mostly we manage here ourselves.” 

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Of course,” Picard laughs softly.

“Does this hologram also look like Rios?” The question earns her a full-belly laugh. 

“He does, yes. Except this one wears a lot of cozy sweaters and speaks with a different Earth accent. There’s also a navigational hologram which also looks like Rios, except with another accent - Irish, like Lieutenant O’Brien.” 

“Is everyone on this ship like this?” 

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Picard says, although the twinkle in his eye suggests otherwise. “Come, let me show you your room.”

The room is fine. She’s seen worse. She’s seen better, too. But it’s clean, and there’s a big bed, a wardrobe, a dresser, an extra chair. Even a replicator. There are lights, although their placement is odd, mostly at mid-level instead of the top of the room. And there’s more metal, of course, surrounding her everywhere. 

“It’s an acquired taste,” Picard says over the sound of her suitcase excitedly rattling over the floor.

“It’s very...metallic.” It’s the best she can say, for now. “I might do some decorating.” The suitcase bumps into a halt against the wardrobe and beeps loudly, as if to let her know it’s here. 

“I’m sure there are people on this ship willing to help you with that, if you need it,” Picard smiles softly at her. “Should a Romulan called Elnor want to help, let me or Raffi know, too. He’s very young for Romulan standards and was literally raised by nuns. He can be a bit overenthusiastic and is still learning human manners. He’s a good kid, though, even if he can be very stubborn.” 

Guinan can feel her heart warm at the sight of Picard being worried about and protective over a young person. Times have changed, indeed. 

“I’m sure I’ll be fine, Picard. Thank you.”

She gets a couple of hours to herself after that, and she decides to use it by unpacking some of her belongings. There isn’t much - El-Aurians have always been travelers, but even more so after the Borg attack scattered her race through the galaxy. She’s used to packing light, and leaving quickly. 

So it doesn’t take long for her few clothes to be hung up in the self-cleaning wardrobe and her matching hats to have found a new home on top of the dresser. She puts the one decorative tapestry she owns up over the bed’s headboard, then steps back and puts her hands on her hips as she looks around the room, pleased with herself. 

She’s just starting to get to an exciting part in the book she’s reading, when there’s a soft knock on her door. 

“Come in!” she calls out. 

The door opens to reveal a woman with kind brown eyes and a comfortable looking vest over her shoulders, and a tall, lanky man with sharp eyebrows, bright, excited eyes, and a sword on his back. 

“Hello, nice to meet you,” the woman says as she takes Guinan in. She’s subtle, but Guinan can tell she’s very intelligent. “I’m Raffaela Musiker, though you can call me Raffi like everyone else does. And this is Elnor,” she says, gesturing to the young man who is not-very-subtly looking at Guinan’s hat collection. 

“My name is Guinan. Elnor, would you like to try one of the hats on, perhaps?” 

“Can I?” he says as his entire face lights up immediately. Raffi clears her throat slightly as she gives Elnor a look. 

“Oh, uh. No, thank you, Guinan. Do you want to join us for dinner, though?” 

“Why yes, of course. Is everyone going to be there?” 

“Yes,” Raffi says. “Although we don’t always do this. But Picard says he’s brought his own wine, and I think Soji said something about having added some new recipes to the replicators, so we’re making it a feast. For you,” she adds quickly, as if Guinan might be insulted otherwise. It’s very, very difficult to insult someone like Guinan, but she figures Raffi will realize that quickly enough on her own. 

Dinner is a strangely intense and almost quiet affair. Guinan can tell these people have been through a lot, and it hasn’t brought them together. It doesn’t take long for Guinan to start replicating much stronger drinks than Picard’s wine. It’s not that his wine isn’t any good, but tonight they need more. 

Guinan can tell she’s going to have to use a lot of her skills to really get these people to talk and finally start working through some of their trauma’s. She might not officially be a counselor, but right now she’s the closest thing to it they have, and boy do they need it. 

Except maybe Elnor, who mostly just seems to be excited to be in space and surrounded by all these different people. It’s hard to imagine this young, almost puppy-like person, to also be a highly trained warrior who has literally decapitated people. It’s a good thing she knows better than to judge by appearances. Nonetheless, she already feels very protective over him, even though he’s probably the last person on this ship to actually need it. 

She feels mostly curious about Rios and Raffi. 

Rios, because although he looks kind and cordial and caring, it takes a special kind of self-loathing to have all these emergency holograms that look exactly like you but talk and behave just slightly differently - and to then absolutely _despise_ all these versions of yourself. 

Raffi, because behind the kind eyes and big hair and sharp mind lies so, so much sadness. She’s also smells a little of drugs and alcohol and of maybe spending a little too much time sleeping with her regular clothes on. Guinan has seen this so many times, and the reasons for it are always different but always extreme. For all of Starfleet’s bravado and pretence of a better world with better people, there are a lot of gaps they never bothered to fill. 

But then there’s Soji. Soji, who mostly sits quietly next to Elnor, save for the occasional quip into the conversation. Whose smile only rarely reaches her eyes. The girl who found out she’s an android, who’d been misled and controlled her whole, short life and didn’t even know it until fairly recently. The girl who’s entire existence got upended, while being betrayed by the person she loved. Everyone else has gone through a lot, too, but they got to have their formative years, their childhoods, their memories that are their own, choices in how to deal with events. 

Soji got none of that. 

No wonder the poor girl’s completely lost. Guinan remembers how it felt to know she no longer had a home planet, a race to come home to. The feeling must be nothing compared to this. 

She feels for Soji, but she can also see the strength underneath. Soji’s going to power through, eventually. It might take a while, but she will manage. 

She’s Data’s daughter, after all. 

Slowly, the table falls completely silent as everyone’s thoughts start to turn inward. Guinan understands they have lost both battles and people. It’s been hard, like wars always are the hardest on the soldiers fighting it. 

Raffi stands up first. Or tries, at least. She stumbles a little, trying to get away from the metal benches. Before anyone can really get up and help though, two holograms appear and catch her, one on each side. 

“I’m alright, boys.” 

“That’s most decidedly untrue, anyone can see that,” one hologram tuts in a British accent. Must be the Emergency Medical Hologram. 

“Let us help,” Mister Sensitive says softly. 

And aren’t those the most important words anyone can say? ‘Let me help’. These people have done so much helping. They’ve saved the galaxy, and changed everyone in it at the same time. 

Guinan might have come here out of curiosity, but as she looks around the table, at all these broken, beautiful people, as Raffi is being helped to her room and Elnor is being helped in learning to deal with humanity. As Soji is recovering from everything that happened, and everyone is starting to learn they can rely on others, she realizes it’s their turn now. 

She just hopes they’ll let her help.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like, please feel free to reblog on [Tumblr!](https://throwing-roses-into-the-abyss.tumblr.com/post/612334817710915584/on-this-fresh-morning-in-the-broken-world). 
> 
> Just so you all know, I didn’t come up with ‘Mister Sensitive’. I wish I did, but Star Trek did that. I just found it on Memory Alpha.


End file.
